Taunt

by Claire Farrell

  A cool breeze blew the back of my hair gently, but something in the sensation told me it was the cold presence rather than the wind. Someday I would have to find out what exactly it was, but for now, I was grateful for the company. And the warnings. The presence blew insistently on my ear a full minute before the vampire ran at me.

  He dashed in my direction, baring his fangs. I faltered, knowing people were close by. Right before the vampire reached me, I dodged out of his way, hoping he would run off and leave me alone. I’ve never been that lucky.

  He turned back, grabbed my throat, and pushed me against the wall. I kneed him in the groin. It didn’t hurt him, but he stepped back and seemed to just… wait. So did I, if only to take his measure.

  He lashed out at me a couple of times, pulling back every time. Was he testing me? I thought of Daimhín’s expression and wondered if he belonged to her. We skirted around each other, neither of us committing. I didn’t want to tire myself out if he was playing with me. I tried to lead him off the main street, away from humans, before he managed to get a taste of my blood and turn crazy with lust.

  Circling me, the vampire tore at my arm with his fingernails before I could duck out of the way. It hurt; I reacted by punching him hard in the face and then pulled back toward the shadows, suspicious of his intentions. He wiped blood from his nose and stepped around me, pretending to attack, then retreating.

  My body buzzed with adrenalin, but I wasn’t scared. I kept a calm head, preparing myself for the real battle to begin. He rushed me again, and I spun around, trying to elbow him. He took the blow and grabbed on, managing to wrap both arms around my neck and pin me to him.

  I struggled against him before wising up and taking a second to plan ahead. I pushed backward with all of my weight, veering him off the path. My weight set him off-kilter, and he let go to balance himself. Determined to finish the fight, I grabbed him by the hair and pulled him fully into the shadows.

  He called out a name. I froze, but nothing happened. As if realising he was alone, the vampire lost the plot and went for me like a rabid dog. This time he didn’t hold back, and I barely avoided his snapping fangs.

  Already angry from the altercation with the grumpy goblin, I kicked him hard in the gut, sending him flying. He jumped up, undeterred, and ran at me again. I dodged his attack easily. I was quick, smart, and he became too aggravated to make a good move. He was stronger, but I managed to use his strength against him to buy time, avoiding most of his strikes.

  I didn’t need blood to survive; the thought soared through me, filling me with confidence.

  It became clear that this would be a fight to the death. His attacks were ferocious, and I was fed up with defending myself. It was time to fight back.

  Determined to give it everything I had, I tackled him, but he overpowered me and sent us both toppling over.

  We grappled on the ground, him aiming for my throat. I held him at bay, using my legs to give me space, but he almost bit off my fingers. I let him throw me on my back, then I rolled over, wriggling away.

  I leapt to my feet, and he ran back at me so quickly, he didn’t notice the dagger until it was too late. His speed and strength helped me stick the dagger into his heart as far as I could. The dagger shone electric blue, then lit up every vein in his body as it burned the poison from within. I looked away when he screamed in agony, but I could feel the heat of the flames close to my skin. I heard the dagger drop to the ground amongst a mound of ashes that quickly blew away. It was over.

  I won. Without blood, without counting. I had stayed calm, and I won.

  I picked up the dagger and carelessly shoved it into my pocket. A flash to my left caught my eye. I heard a loud cracking noise and flew backward, unable to understand what had happened.

  Then the pain came, burning hot in my stomach.

  Humans dotted the streets; I could hear their whispers like thunder, yet that was quiet compared to the beating of their hearts. I pressed the wound, and blood drenched my fingers. The pain stopped. Not a good sign, but I was too tired to think about it.

  My eyes closed by themselves; my whole body felt weightless. Not right. Feeling strangely empty, I struggled to open my eyes. Ignoring the dizziness, I rolled over slowly. I got to my knees first. Slow and steady. The blood still flowed; I could see a puddle on the ground, but I had to ignore it, had to move, couldn’t bleed out—not right there on the ground.

  I managed to push myself to my feet. I staggered on, trying to remember who lived close by, because I needed help. I pressed on the wound again, wondering why it didn’t hurt. It felt slippery; I concentrated on that because all I wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

  I kept going, trying to stay upright. My vision blurred at the edges, and I had no idea where I was headed. I just knew I needed to keep moving. Then I heard my name. Someone grabbed me, held me tight. Peter.

  “I . . . I think I’ve been shot,” I managed to croak. Of everything that could happen to me, this was the last thing I expected.

  He nodded. “I know, she warned me something would happen. I’ve been ringing you, come on. We’ve all been looking for you. I’m taking you to the bookshop.”

  “No,” I moaned. “Not him. I need to go home.”

  “Trust me, Ava,” He ushered me along.

  “I can’t.” I wanted to, but everyone felt like the enemy.

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He sounded frustrated.

  “On silent,” I said through wet lips.

  “It’s okay. We have to hurry, come on.”

  I let him help me along but, after a couple of steps, I coughed, and blood poured out of my mouth.

  “It’s fine,” he kept saying over and over again. “It’s fine.”

  He eased me into his car and sped off. I was afraid to speak because I could taste the blood in my mouth, and after a couple of minutes the pain cut through the daze.

  “It’s hurting now,” I said. “Think that might be a good thing.”

  He glanced at my wound. “We need to get the bullet out. Looks like it’s healing over it.”

  “Can’t be. I can’t do that.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen you heal wounds before.”

  “Not anymore. Never works. Need to spit now.”

  He glanced at me, then opened the window. The breeze cooled the sweat on my face as I spat a glob of blood outside.

  “If the skin heals, the bullet will be stuck inside. You’re not healing properly on the inside, so we have to get it out.” His voice shook.

  I shivered, unwilling to think about what that might mean. No chance of a hospital, or even a doctor, and painkillers had never worked on me before.

  I gave a little cry of pain when Peter pulled over outside Eddie’s place. He pushed Eddie out of the way and helped me inside, half carrying me up the stairs. I gripped his coat and pressed my face against his chest to keep from screaming. The pain worsened, and the blood kept bubbling in my mouth.

  Peter laid me down, and I chanced taking a look at my stomach. It was covered in blood, but the wound didn’t look so bad.

  “I’m sorry, Ava,” Peter said, his face paler than usual. “I might have to hurt you.”

  I bit my lip and nodded. I had no choice.

  “I have something that might help her, but it’ll take at least twenty minutes to work,” Eddie said.

  Peter pushed him out of the way. “No good. She could bleed out by then; look at her.”

  He poured cold liquid over my skin as I fell in and out of consciousness. I heard Eddie whispering, but I was losing my grip on reality; his words meant nothing to me.

  I felt Eddie clasp my hand; Peter used my own dagger to try and open the wound and force out the bullet which had buried itself inside. I tried not to scream, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Stop, just leave it,” I whimpered, as the hot pain intensified. My fangs shot out, piercing my lip. Blood dribbled down my chin. Eddie wiped it away gently with a wet cloth. It felt like Pet
er was stabbing me with tiny hot pokers; I couldn’t look at him, I just wanted him to stop.

  “I’m sorry, I have to do this.” The panic in Peter’s voice swept over me, and I knew it was more serious than I thought.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I asked, feeling the fear in the air.

  “The surface wound is healing fast, but you have to be bleeding internally. The blood… your mouth… it’s not right. The bullet’s stuck somewhere it shouldn’t be. If I don’t get it out, you won’t make it. It’ll take too much time to get to a hospital; you’ve already lost so much blood. I have to try.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded. I had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

  Peter used the dagger again to widen the wound. Sweat rolled down my face as he finally used his fingers to stretch the wound enough to let the knife slip behind the bullet and push it out. It felt like hours; hot, probing, jagged pain surged through my body as he struggled with the bullet. I tasted metal in my mouth, saw the room fade in and out of colour.

  “It’s done,” he said at last, looking paler than I probably was, and held up the bullet. “Silver. Lucky you’re not a vampire, Ava.” Taking a look at all of the blood I’d lost while he cut me, he shook his head. “Lucky you’re not a human either.”

  I gave a shaky laugh and stopped crushing Eddie’s hand. He pushed Peter aside and set to work cleaning my wound, using something strong-smelling to patch me up. I saw his hands move swiftly to stitch, but I stopped feeling every little pain. Peter lifted me slightly so Eddie could wrap a clean white bandage right around my midriff. A sharp pain ran right through me, and I grabbed hold of both men. Something slid out of my mouth and fell to the floor with a light thud. I heard a shriek, realised it was me, and lost myself in the darkness.

  ***

  I awoke in the bed to Eddie and Peter whispering by the door.

  “Shut up.” I licked my lips. “You sound like bees. Annoying.”

  “You okay?” Peter asked, his face still pale.

  I nodded. “Achy. Not as bad.”

  “I gave you a couple of things that should help. You had some kind of a reaction; maybe it was the bullet, maybe the ointment I used, I’m not sure.” Eddie looked puzzled. “You’ll be fine as long as you take it easy. No fighting.”

  I made a noise. “No problem.” I tried to stretch and decided that was a bad idea.

  “Blood?” Eddie asked.

  I scowled at him in answer.

  “At least you’re feeling better,” he said, sighing.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the comforting sound of Peter’s heartbeat. “I’m thirsty, though; I think I need to eat soon.”

  “Eddie, cook something for her. I’ll stay with her,” Peter said.

  Eddie looked me over. “You sure you want to chance that?”

  Peter nodded, and Eddie left. Peter turned to me, his expression deadly serious. “We need to talk.”

  Chapter Six

  Daylight streamed into the room. Confused, I stared at the window. “How long was I out?”

  “Twelve hours, maybe? Eddie said it was something he gave you. Helps heal, but it’s so painful he thought he should help you sleep through it.”

  “Would’ve been nice to be asked.”

  He shrugged. “You would’ve said no.”

  I stretched. My limbs felt stiff, and my gut definitely hurt, but I felt okay, all things considered. Maybe a little too okay. “He didn’t give me blood again, did he?”

  Peter shook his head. He looked exhausted. He wasn’t a fan of the blood-drinking, so I doubted he would lie. “Do you remember what happened?”

  I felt dizzy and closed my eyes again. I tried to remember, but everything was dim, as if a shadow covered my memories. I struggled to sort through it all. Vampire. Gunshot. Peter. Silver bullet. None of it made sense to me.

  “Why were you there?” I asked, suspicion making my words sound harsher than I intended.

  “Yvonne warned me something was going on. Something to do with you,” he said, helping me as I struggled to sit up properly. I glanced around for my coat, feeling panicked knowing the dagger was away from me, but it hung safely on the back of the door, hopefully with the dagger still intact.

  I turned my attention back to Peter. “So, who’s Yvonne? Your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, well, no, actually, but she’s Daimhín’s day assistant, if that’s who you mean.”

  “Right, of course.”

  Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out his wallet to show me a photo I had once spotted, a little boy who looked a lot like Peter. Peter’s heart rate sped up, and I felt my own anxiety increase alongside his.

  “This is my son. The woman you’re talking about is his aunt. I was in a relationship with her sister. I lived with her family. Now they’re all dead. I think it’s time we cleared up a few things.”

  “You don’t have to—” I stopped when I saw the look in his eyes.

  “Yes. I do. You keep assuming things half right, and that’s dangerous. For you.”

  “What are you talking about, Peter?” My voice croaked, and I felt vulnerable sitting wrapped up in bandages while he finally let me in.

  He hesitated. “I didn’t think this would be a conversation I’d have with you. I thought you were one of them at first, then I got to know you and saw that you were about five hundred shades of grey.” He grinned suddenly. “I still don’t get it.”

  “I don’t get it either, Peter. What’s with you? You knew I didn’t want to work with Daimhín, but you still sent me into that mess, then I find out you’re all cosy with her personal assistant. You avoid me for weeks and suddenly you’re all white knight when I get shot. What’s going on?”

  “You’re right. I screwed you over. I wanted you to work for Daimhín. I wanted you involved. I needed your help, but I didn’t trust you enough to tell you why. Yvonne works for her because I pushed her into it; I wanted her to look for information on who killed her family.” His expression turned dark. “My family. These people, these creatures, they don’t talk to humans, but if you’re in with someone important, then you have a way of finding out things, you know?”

  I stared at him, sickened. Now that he was actually being upfront, I was afraid to hear it.

  “I need you to understand now,” he said. “Who I am, and what I’m prepared to do. You need to know. You’re right about some things; I did get you into a lot of this mess. When we first met, I changed my mind and decided to help you because Eddie said you could be the one to help me.”

  I frowned. “I don’t understand. How could Eddie know that?”

  He smiled, but his body tensed. “Eddie knows a lot of things.”

  I felt like I was peeping through somebody’s window, but I needed more. Part of me wanted to hurt him, but part of me wanted to understand him. “What happened to you, Peter?”

  He closed his eyes while he spoke, rushing his words like he couldn’t stop. “Everything I do is about my family, Ava. Everything. Lisa and I were too young when we had Emmett. I remember thinking my life was over. I didn’t appreciate what I had. I ended up moving in with Lisa’s parents. Yvonne hated me; she couldn’t wait to leave once I stuck around. She still hates me, actually,” he added with a humourless laugh. “Her parents were great to me, though. Treated me like one of their own, even though they thought I messed up their daughter’s life.”

  He paused, and I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to speak so I stayed silent and waited.

  “One night, Lisa and I were supposed to go out together, but Emmett had a temperature. We argued about it because she wanted to stay home with him. I thought we should still go; we hadn’t had any fun in a while. Even her parents said he’d sleep it off. I went out anyway; I was twenty and didn’t have a clue. But I stopped sulking after a while and went home to apologise.”

  His fingers gripped his wallet tight, his knuckles white. “The lights were out. I thought that was weird. Then I tripped over Lisa’s dad’s body. He and
his wife, lying together; I found out later their necks had been broken. I wasn’t like this then. I was terrified. I swear, I almost lost my mind right there.”

  He shook his head and rubbed his cheeks before continuing. “I went upstairs. I don’t remember walking, just that I got upstairs and saw Lisa. She was slumped against the wall outside Emmett’s room. Her eyes were open, her throat slit, and her blood all over the walls.”

  He let out a shaky sigh. “I didn’t touch her. I needed to find my son. I knew I wasn’t going to see him alive; I just didn’t want him to be alone. He was just a baby. He couldn’t be by himself.” His voice cracked, and I thought my heart might break for him.

  “I did see him alive, just for a second,” he said. “A monster had him. A real monster, a green scaly demon like something you’d see on television, just lifted him out of the cot. I froze, didn’t move a muscle. It was like my brain couldn’t understand what it was seeing.” He shook his head, looking disgusted.

  “What happened?” I asked, unable to help myself. Entranced by the story, I saw the real Peter crack through the shell of hate surrounding him.

  He looked at me with empty eyes. “Then everything went black. I woke up in an ambulance. Emmett was gone. Nobody believed me about the demon, and they all thought I had killed Lisa and her parents. But there wasn’t a speck of blood on me, and the time frame was all off. Still, Yvonne wouldn’t talk to me, not even after they took me off the list of suspects.”

  His laugh was humourless. “At first, I thought I was really insane. Demons? Right. Then I dug around, went places, met Eddie, asked stupid questions, and found out there was this big bad world that couldn’t be explained away.”

  “So that was it? Nobody found him? What about the demon who took him? What was it?”

  His jaw clenched. “Not even a trace, not a clue, not a hope of finding what happened to Emmett. Nobody can tell me what the demon might be, doesn’t exist, or so they say. But I’ve been looking ever since. I wouldn’t leave Yvonne alone until she let me prove it to her. She wouldn’t stay in her parents' house again, so she rents it to me. We only speak to exchange information and try to find a way of getting to whatever took Emmett.”